


Connections

by trufflemores_Glee_fic



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 17:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores_Glee_fic/pseuds/trufflemores_Glee_fic
Summary: Read-at-your-own-risk, an unfinished "Blaine is a famous YouTuber" AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! After receiving multiple requests to repost my old Glee fics, I have created a second AO3 account to do so. I hope you can forgive me for flooding the Glee pages over the next few days. 
> 
> I also ask for kindness regarding the quality of these fics. Over on my main AO3 account (trufflemores), I have written over 150 Flash fics; end result, my current work is of a higher quality than these older pieces. But I know how beloved old fics can be, and I respect that something I consider sub-par can be someone else's favorite. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this fic and any others you choose to read. If you choose to do so, I would also be happy to have you on board 'The Flash' bandwagon as well.
> 
> Kick back, relax, and enjoy. You have been one of the greatest audiences I have ever had.
> 
> Affectionately yours,  
> trufflemores

"Shut the door," Kurt said, hurrying into their living room as Rachel loo. Barely containing his inner squeal, Kurt repeated, "Oh my God, shut the door."

"Kurt?" Rachel asked, alarm and surprise mingling in her tone as she finally got up from the couch to oblige as Kurt shooed her emphatically in the door's direction without actually touching anything. "I thought you weren't coming home until nine, what happened? What's wrong?"

Waiting with barely restrained patience for her to slide the door shut, Kurt drew in a deep breath to explain and promptly squeaked, flailing hands betraying his excitement as he explained in a rush, "I just met Blaine Anderson."

"Who?" Rachel's brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

Still shaking slightly, Kurt insisted, "You know, Blaine! The one from all the YouTube videos?" Going off Rachel's confused look, Kurt hastened to explain, "He did all those Maroon 5 covers."

"Wait, curly-haired, sings-like-a-dream Blaine? That Blaine?" Rachel asked skeptically, folding her hands on her hips. "No way -- there is no way that Blaine Anderson is in New York right now and we didn't hear about it."

"Honey, he's not exactly an A-lister, no one knows where he is all the time, but oh my God Rach he was right there and he shook my hand," Kurt effused, staring at his own hand in amazement. "I'm never washing it again. Ever."

Rachel wrinkled her nose, opening the fridge and rooting around for smoothie ingredients as Kurt watched. "Gross."

"How can you make a smoothie right now? I just met Blaine An -- is that pineapple?"

"I'm not sharing," Rachel said stoutly, pulling out a Tupperware full of pineapple slices. "You ate all my strawberries last week and I still haven't forgiven you." She set about preparing the rest of her fruit smoothie as Kurt sighed in a mixture of wistfulness and exasperation as he took a seat at the table, careful not to run his right hand along its surface.

He hadn't planned on meeting Blaine Anderson after work. It had just -- happened, one moment walking along the street at the same brisk pace as everyone else, the next stopping cold when he realized that the suavely dressed patron dining alone outside the crowded coffee shop was, in fact, the same face that had haunted Kurt's pixelated life for months, now. He'd spent hours listening to his covers of popular songs, reveling in Blaine's knack for acoustics and, exceptionally, love for Katy Perry and Broadway songs alike. It made for an eclectic playlist on Kurt's iPod, often drawing a laugh from him whenever a more unpopular choice cropped up.

To bump into the same man on the streets was a bewildering experience, for two reasons.

First: Blaine wasn't focused on the camera. He didn't know that he had an audience, and so Kurt was free to gawk shamelessly at his surprisingly sweeping back and shoulders while admiring the clean cut of his sky blue button-down, accentuating both features nicely. One leg hooked over the other as he bent, rapt, over an ear-marked book Kurt couldn't see the title of, Blaine struck an oddly tense figure, clearly caught in the middle of something.

Kurt almost walked past him, blushing furiously at his own inability to stop staring, before coming to a halt directly in front of him and peeping out: "Hi."

Blaine unfocused was a disarming enough experience, but when he turned the full attention of those warm hazel eyes on Kurt, it took Kurt's breath away.

"Hi," he greeted, a genial smile overtaking his features. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Blinking, twice-bewildered, Kurt asked, "I'm sorry?"

Then, laughing -- and God, he had the richest, most wonderful laugh -- Blaine explained, "Clearly I did something right to be in your presence. My name's Blaine," he added, utterly unnecessary as he extended a hand cordially, leaning forward and unfolding his legs as he did so, relaxing.

"K-Kurt." He shook Blaine's hand firmly, daring to hope that maybe that would convince him that he wasn't, at least, entirely out of his mind.

"Kurt," Blaine repeated, testing the word and smiling approvingly. "Care to join me?"

Oh dear God please yes.

"Oh, I -- I would love to, I just -- I have this thing -- with this friend -- I really need to get back to." Waving a hand vaguely, Kurt blushed an even deeper shade of red as he said, "But it was really nice to meet you! I'm kind of a fan. I mean, I am a fan. I'm really a fan. Of your YouTube -- your thing. That. I'm a fan of that."

Still smiling and lifting his coffee in a slightly forlorn farewell (or at least, Kurt wanted to think it was forlorn, and not an internal oh thank God the crazy one's leaving, which, in all likelihood, it probably was), Blaine said, "Can I give you my number?"

"Sure," Kurt said, dizzied by the notion that he was even speaking to Blaine Anderson, let alone passing his phone along to him so he could plug in his number.

Blaine had such amazing hands, and he didn't recall the exact moment that he took the phone back, focusing again on those serene hazel eyes as Blaine said, "Let me know if you change your mind about coffee. I'll be around for a few days."

"Great," Kurt squeaked, shaking his hand again in farewell -- and he was never going to wash that hand, ever -- before taking off at a trot that could only fractionally be called polite.

He hadn't fled from Blaine. He hadn't.

"Earth to Kurt," Rachel chanted, waving a smoothie cup in front of him as Kurt groaned and planted his forehead on the table. "What's wrong?"

Kurt opened his mouth, ready to launch into a long and heartfelt appraisal of his own mortifying experience, when a knock came on the door.

Rachel bustled over to answer it, tugging the door open just enough to see who it was before squealing.

"Oh, wow, hi," Blaine -- Blaine, God, Kurt was actually going to jump out the window and move back to Ohio because if his face didn't stop turning red every time he was in Blaine's presence he would die of embarrassment, "are you okay? Is this okay? I'm sorry, I know that I'm just -- I'm a stranger and I might've taken a few liberties to find you here, I have a friend, Sam Evans? Anyway, he knows a few people, but it's not really important -- so, okay, um. This. This is for Kurt," he said, and Kurt finally lifted his head from the table, having frozen in the hopes of remaining utterly unnoticed, just in time to see Blaine passing a coffee and a -- phone? -- to Rachel.

Kurt patted his pockets reflexively, rubbing his hand across his forehead briefly when he realized that he'd left it behind.

"So, I should just -- go," Blaine said, hovering in the doorway as Rachel stood, unmoving and unspeaking, for a long moment, smoothie in one hand and Kurt's phone and coffee -- coffee? -- in the other.

"You're Blaine Anderson," Rachel said at last, and Kurt could hear her measuring him up, stoicism still somehow in place while Kurt's heart continued to race just looking at Blaine, his curls even more floppy and wonderful in real life than they were on camera.

Then, to his alarm, Blaine's gaze slid just so to the left and met Kurt's, and he beamed, straightening and addressing Rachel long enough to say, "I am," before adding, "Hi, Kurt. I brought your phone back. And a mocha. I didn't know if you liked mochas."

"I love mochas," Kurt hurried to assure, liberating both coffee and phone from Rachel's grasp as she stared at Blaine. "Mochas are my favorite."

"Oh, awesome," Blaine said, smiling at the two of them -- and how did he look so endearingly out of place in their dingy hallway wearing too much blue (seriously, only he could pull off a blue button down and a dark blue bowtie) and a perfect smile?

"You should come in," Kurt said promptly.

Blaine took a tentative step forward. "Are you sure?"

"We have pineapple smoothies," Rachel said in lieu of confirmation.

Distracted momentarily from his Blaine-induced daze, Kurt turned to Rachel and asked delicately, "I thought we weren't sharing?"

"We have pineapple smoothies," Rachel stated, and that was that, a laugh greeting her unexpectedly, Kurt's heart melting at the sound as he stepped back to let Blaine inside.

And so he drank his nonfat mocha while Blaine and Rachel drank smoothies on the couch, fiddling with Sam's guitar -- and yes, it was their Sam's guitar, and Kurt was going to strangle him for never mentioning his connection to Blaine Anderson before -- while Blaine explained the mechanics of his move to New York. Part of it was publicity -- branching out, discovering new things, and hopefully, eventually getting picked up by a bigger company, although so far none of his auditions had worked out. Another part was personal: he wanted to get out there and be somebody apart from his music, to be a person in addition to a figure behind a screen.

Kurt, for his part, stared shamelessly as he sang a frank and breathtakingly light version of Love Somebody, strumming out his own accompaniment as Rachel leaned her head on his shoulder, enthralled. Ignoring the jealousy stirring in his gut, Kurt watched them and absorbed the sounds, Blaine's voice and guitar even lovelier in person.

"You have a lovely voice," he said, the first and only thing that came to his mind when Blaine stopped singing, a tiny, almost embarrassed smile curling the corners of his lips.

"Thank you," he said, meeting Kurt's gaze again -- and if it continued to knock Kurt off his metaphorical feet every time, then they would never get anywhere, but he didn't see it that as a terrible fate, even so -- and setting the guitar aside. "I should probably head back soon; it's getting late."

Kurt nodded, reluctant though he was to let him go -- because how often was Blaine Anderson there and willing to sing a song for them and just them? "What was that book you were reading earlier?" he asked, unable to help himself as he walked Blaine to the door, Rachel having hugged him before he got up from the couch.

Smiling wryly, Blaine said, "If you agree to meet me for coffee sometime, then you just might find out," as he nudged Kurt's shoulder gently with his own. "Thanks for the company. I really enjoyed it."

Somewhat dazed, Kurt nodded, belatedly squeezing his fingers when Blaine shook his hand again.

And then Blaine leaned forward and hugged him, a long, thoughtful hug that made Kurt draw in a shuddering breath when Blaine released him because that was how hugs were supposed to be.

Long after Blaine was gone and Kurt was staring at the ceiling of his own bed, he pulled out his phone, pulled up a new tab and opened Blaine's YouTube channel, feeling oddly voyeuristic as he clicked on the most recent one.

"Hey, guys. So I know I mentioned in my last video that I was off to get some inspiration and I think I've finally found it. This next one is for a -- well, hopefully new friend of mine. Enjoy."

And, because he was Blaine Anderson, Kurt knew from the first note line -- You think I'm pretty without any makeup on -- that the song was for him.

Even charmingly different and exactly as wonderful as Kurt had hoped he would be, Blaine was still full of surprises.


	2. Chapter 2

Going on tour was still a novelty for Blaine.

He loved the responses that he received online whenever he posted a new cover of a song, but nothing compared to the thrill of being on stage. The fans were always so excited to see him, and he shared and understood their excitement. It was dazzling to climb those last few steps and look out into the crowd and know that they were all there to hear him sing. They trusted him to put on a good show, and he worked hard every night to ensure that he didn't disappoint. In addition to putting himself out there on stage, he also stayed after every show to sign merchandise and take photographs with the fans, and often times he lingered outside the concert halls to just bask in the glow while his band loaded up the bus.

It was an amazing experience from start to finish. He loved visiting the different cities and dining at their local hubs and meeting strangers on the streets and performing every night to a crowd that raved over him. Even sleeping on the bus all day between shows was nice; he found a neck pillow that served as the perfect cushion for any occasion and put it to good use. His band members were fun to talk to and sing with, and he enjoyed setting up and listening to his own music, letting it build in him until a fever pitch had been reached.

Going on tour was great for Blaine -- it reminded him of all the reasons why he loved performing without isolating him from his YouTube fanbase. On the contrary, it brought him closer to the people that already found comfort and enjoyment in his music, and he loved that he could bring the music to them live.

Even so, it was still comforting to sit alone in a room and accompany himself on guitar. It was a nice compromise between pleasing his fans and himself: he didn't have to dress up for the occasion, and he could play for hours without tiring when movement wasn't involved. Usually there was more work involved -- his music videos were no easy feats, after all -- but occasionally he put together stripped-down covers where all that mattered were his guitar and his voice.

So it was with genuine excitement (and only a touch of trepidation) that he planned his next tour with his band, setting dates and contacting venues and arranging appearances. They negotiated for weeks and finally got a working schedule settled down by the end of March, and even though he knew that it was still three months before they would actually be visiting any locations, he couldn't contain his excitement as he dialed Kurt's number as soon as he got off the phone with his drummer.

"Hi!" he chirped, flopping back on his hotel room bed and beaming at the dark ceiling as he announced, "I have the best news."

Kurt sounded sleepy on the other end of the line as he said, "Does it involve free backstage passes to the Taylor Swift concert?"

"Uh -- no, no, not--" Blaine snickered, running a hand over his face and unable to hide his smile as he explained, "I'm going on tour this summer."

"You're going on tour with Taylor Swift?" Kurt sounded astonished; Blaine couldn't blame him.

"No -- I'm going on tour, alone, this summer," Blaine elaborated. "I mean, I'm not alone, I'll have my band and Sam and a few friends with me throughout the tour, plus about twelve hundred screaming fans every night if all goes well, so -- no, not alone."

Humming, Kurt added, "Sounds lovely."

"It is," Blaine agreed, relieved that they were finally on the same page. "It's -- amazing. Being on stage, visiting the different cities, meeting the fans . . . I love it. And -- I'd like for you to come see me."

There was a long pause and then a whisper of sheets sliding down as Kurt sat up. "You -- want me to come see you on tour."

The hesitation in Kurt's voice worried Blaine that he may have overstepped. Kurt and he had seen each other several times since their serendipitous meeting outside a coffee shop in New York, but it wasn't like they were close friends. It was Blaine's fault for assuming otherwise.

It was difficult not to make assumptions, though, given how much they had enjoyed their days together. Once the initial shock of meeting a famous YouTuber had passed, Kurt had warmed up to him the next morning considerably when he called back to ask if Kurt had any plans for the day. After assuring Blaine that he was free, Kurt had given him an abbreviated tour of the city. It had been fascinating to explore it with a local, and Blaine had savored every minute of it, graciously accepting an invitation to spend dinner at Kurt's apartment that night.

Leaving that night had been hard, and he'd put off his departure for as long as he could, knowing that he would be returning to his hotel room alone. At last Kurt had ushered him gently out the door after Blaine declined an invitation to stay the night (he couldn't impose like that; really, he couldn't -- but oh, how he wished that he had). His hotel room had been just as lonely as he had feared, but he couldn't find it in himself to be sad about it, too pleased with his day to fall asleep disappointed.

Over the next week he'd spent time alternately with Kurt and reconnecting with his band members both in person and over the phone while tossing around ideas of another tour. At last, they finally had most of the details ironed out and were ready to start promotional work. It was a heady feeling and he wanted to share it with someone that could appreciate the novelty of the experience, but he couldn't deny that Kurt's hesitation was valid -- it hadn't occurred to Blaine not to invite him to see him, but it also hadn't occurred to him that Kurt had no reason to expect to be included, either.

They were casual friends at best, nothing more than coincidentally introduced and, through equally improbable luck, drawn to each other by similar interests. Blaine couldn't say how he would have reacted if he were in Kurt's shoes, even though his silence was, to no small degree, disconcerting.

"Kurt?" he asked at last, needing to know that Kurt was still there. "Are you--"

"Still here."

Blaine let out an involuntary breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his hand falling to his side. "Oh."

"I'm processing."

Blaine considered that for a moment and then asked, "Is that good or bad?"

Another long pause stretched between them. At last, Kurt said softly, "Blaine?"

"Mm?" Blaine asked.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. "Great! That's really -- that's great," he said honestly. "I'm so glad." Covering his face with his hand again because he couldn't contain his smile, Blaine beamed and said, "It seems so silly to invite you, but--"

"It's not silly," Kurt assured, and even sleepy, he still sounded so pleased. "Can we talk about it more in the morning? I'm sorry, I just -- I had a late shift."

"Of course," Blaine said, making a mental note to set an alarm so he didn't accidentally sleep the day away. It was already going on four in the morning, he realized, sparing a quick glance at his digital clock. No wonder Kurt was tired. "That's fine. Go to sleep, Kurt."

Kurt hummed, nestling down into the covers and yawning once before he said, "G'night, Blaine."

"Good night, Kurt," Blaine echoed softly.

Replacing his phone on the nightstand after Kurt had hung up and he'd done the same, Blaine looked up at the ceiling and smiled helplessly for a moment, at last turning onto his side and hugging a pillow to his chest. He didn't know why he was so excited to have Kurt come to one of his concerts -- there would be so many fans with their stories to warm him and make him melt all over again -- but there was something about Kurt that drew him in, a certain deliberateness to his actions that made him irresistibly fascinating. Blaine wanted to know more about him -- and he wanted to spend more time with him in the process -- and he knew that the best way to do so was to keep their connection strong while they had it.

Kurt may have reached out to him first -- out of bewilderment or sheer excitement alone, Blaine couldn't say -- but Blaine was determined to keep him from slipping away. As long as there was a spark, then Blaine wouldn't let the pressures of his lifestyle extinguish it before it had even had a chance to grow.

And who knew what could happen on tour; as he'd always believed, anything could.

Whether or not he was overreacting to the first friend outside of his closely knit band or simply clinging to the possibility of a good thing, Blaine knew one thing for sure: June couldn't come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

"You didn't actually sleep the whole ride over here, did you?"

Blaine yawned and accepted the stack of papers from the manager of the venue with a groggy hum, scowling when one of his band mates reached up to ruffle his hair playfully. "No, no, don't -- you'll get gel on your hands and I'll have to wash and redo it and we'll all be late."

"You totally slept the whole ride here," the manager laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Boys already got most of the tech set up, we're just waiting on the rest of the merch unloaded."

"Mm. Why do we need merch again?" Blaine asked, directing his attention at one of his bandmates through squinty eyes, closing his fingers around a steaming cup of coffee gratefully. "Who's responsible for this?" he asked, taking a long sip and moaning. "Oh my God, I am going to kiss whoever is responsible for this."

"A, it covers the gas costs, and you're a superstar," Jake said, clapping him on the shoulder in passing. "And B, talk to your new friend -- what's-his-name's out front!"

Blaine debated helping the crew haul in the rest of the gear as his lead guitarist wandered off to confirm details with the manager, his bandmates already lugging in the last of the boxes from their bus. They'd arrived three hours before the concert in order to get everything set up, and even though Blaine knew that a healthy sense of caution should warn him against visiting with strangers out front when he had a concert to prepare for, he couldn't help his curiosity.

Ambling back down the steps (tripping twice on the way, his sleepy, stumbling feet uncooperative), he emerged into the blindingly sunny open air and broke into a wide smile as soon as he spotted Kurt nursing his own cup of coffee and smiling shyly at him. "Oh my God, you're here," he exclaimed, delighted and disbelieving as he swept Kurt up in a hug. "How are you? How did you get here?"

"I flew. You don't mind?" Kurt asked shyly, gently hugging Blaine back.

"No, no, not at all," Blaine assured, letting him go and beaming. "Oh my God, Kurt. I'm so happy you're here. Come on, you have to see the inside of this place -- unless you don't want to spoil the surprise?" he added, pausing belatedly. At some point he'd taken Kurt's hand, his free hand lingering on the door handle as he waited for a head shake, some sort of negation.

Kurt did shake his head, but he was smiling, indicating with a careful wave of his coffee for Blaine to lead the way. Smiling back, feeling almost dizzy with excitement, Blaine opened the door and did just that.

It was as much a surprise for Kurt as it was for him to see the venue; without the post-nap blinders, Blaine could finally take in the scenery. The floors were glossy black but visibly worn from years of use; the steps creaked ever so slightly whenever a band member clambered up on door them. The bar area occupied an entire wall while the opposite side was one elongated bench, providing cushioned seating for anyone that didn't want to rally in the pit stretching from one of the joint to the other and coming right up to the stage.

His bandmates were already up on stage prepping for the show, testing mics and instruments and calling up to the sound crew overhead. Blaine knew that it was imperative that he join them as soon as possible to make sure that all of his gear was functional, but he liked lingering back with Kurt.

"What do you think?" he asked, directing his attention at Kurt.

"No elevators -- Anderson, why'd I let you book this place again?" Artie demanded, wheeling up behind them and startling Kurt half a foot in the air.

"Kurt, this is Artie -- he's part of the sound crew," Blaine added. "Which is -- oh. Upstairs." Releasing Kurt's hand, he reached up to scratch the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Maybe Jake could help you up?"

"Is that code for Jake, please carry my sound crew manager up the stairs?" Jake asked, appearing in the space beside them almost from the shadows, tucking papers in his pockets.

Artie sighed, looking deeply forlorn but not entirely surprised at the prospect, before pointing a stern finger at Jake and warning, "Do not drop me."

"Dude, relax," Jake said, wheeling him closer to the stairs and negotiating the steps as Blaine carefully steered Kurt towards the stage, hoping to avoid getting drawn into that particular argument.

"So this is the band," he announced. "Sam and Jake play guitar and Ryder's our drummer."

"Who charitably agreed to carry in all the gear," Ryder called out. "You coming up here or what, Blaine?"

"In a minute," Blaine replied, watching Kurt take it all in with slow sips of his coffee. "So, what do you think?"

Kurt mulled the question over for a long moment, looking at all of them and gravitating closer to Blaine, not alarmed but overwhelmed. "I -- it's impressive," Kurt admitted. "I'm ... wow. The farthest I ever got was an Indie band in New York."

"Wait, you had your own band?" Blaine asked, delighted, even as Kurt shook his head quickly, a no no no no gesture. "You have to tell me more."

Ryder poked Blaine sharply in the back with a long skinny pole, startling a yelp out of him. "After you warm up. No excuses."

"Fine, fine, fine," Blaine grumbled, reaching back to swat at the pole as Ryder tried to poke him again. "You're welcome to hang out, if you want to," he added at Kurt, smiling at him before snatching the pole when Ryder tried to poke him again and waving it threateningly in his direction. "You don't have to, if you'd prefer to explore the city a little more -- Detroit has a lot to offer--"

"I'm fine here," Kurt assured, smiling at him. "I could help you get set up?"

"Oh, no, we're good, you don't have to--"

"Shut up, Blaine," Kitty called, emerging from behind the merch desk area and snatching Kurt's sleeve. "I am not ruining my nails over three boxes of posters with his face on it."

"I still can't believe you had those made," Blaine said, climbing on stage and whirling on his heel when Ryder poked him again with his newly reclaimed pole.

"Gas costs," Jake chanted, waving overhead at him.

Almost oblivious to their banter, Kurt was already stacking the boxes onto the desk at Kitty's command, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips in spite of his strict posture. Blaine shook his head vaguely in apology before growling when Ryder poked him again, chasing after him when he tapped the back of his head.

They passed the time between setup and sound check easily, Kurt gravitating between the four main areas comfortably. Blaine tried to keep him in sight but let him wander freely, pleased to invite someone into the crazier part of his life without having it overwhelm them. He wasn't quite the superstar that Jake claimed he was, attracting hoards of screaming fans at every block, but he was certainly popular enough that, among his admirers, the question lingered if he could ever be seen as truly ordinary.

Be a part of this, he challenged Kurt, strumming calloused fingers over his own guitar absentmindedly, but remember that I'm a person, too.

After downing another coffee and half a bottle of water, he was feeling more like himself, the last of the nap-related jet lag shaken off as his curls started to spring free from their gel hold. It wouldn't last the night, but he liked to keep it as tame as he could for as long as possible. Already beginning to settle into his stage persona, he invited Kurt to sit on a bar stool and sang a goodly portion of Everybody Wants to Rule the World to warm up his vocals.

There wasn't time for conversation after with the sound checkers piling in for their exclusive performance. Kurt was spirited away by Kitty and Blaine didn't have the time to wonder about his whereabouts, focusing all of his attention on the people in front of him. "Hey, guys," he greeted, sitting on the end of the stage and strumming his guitar lightly, just testing the chords, "how are you all doing tonight?"

For a time, he almost forgot about Kurt, responding to the sound crew up above -- primarily Artie -- while Jake and Sam milled around backstage, bringing out instruments and taking others away to continue testing them out. He played parts of Cough Syrup and even an elongated form of Glitter Rock Vampire, an original song he and Elliot had jokingly put together years ago in New York that had somehow found a home on the Internet. Elliot had already moved on as a single artist to record a couple albums, but he still dropped back from time to time to open for Blaine or sing a duet with him.

Talking about Elliot as he tuned his guitar was a nice way to transition from thinking about outside affairs to the show that he was going to perform that night. He loved the fans and the music and the lights and action feel of a tour, but it was easy to forget that this wasn't just the Warblers and that he did have to work to make sure everything was perfect. He was part of something bigger, something special, and he wasn't about to squander it by daydreaming about spending more time with Kurt. Absolutely not.

Sound check was over almost before he'd wrapped up a little impromptu cut of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go with Sam, Kurt's gaze on him from the back of the room as Blaine bopped around on stage, just a little gig to get him warmed up. Phones were out up front recording him, but Blaine didn't mind: he'd adjusted to the surreal art of acting freely while having every eye in the audience on him.

With dozens of hugs and farewells, he let the fans trickle back out into the waiting crowd outside the venue, returning his attention to the sound crew as they relayed new commentary. Adjusting his mics accordingly, he tinkered with every guitar and mic at his disposal until at last they gave him the all clear. Gratefully, he unslung his guitar and unhooked the mic, wandering off backstage to chug another water and grab a sandwich, reappearing on the main floor moments later.

To his surprise and disappointment, Kurt was nowhere to be seen. With little time to look for him -- and with at least forty eager fans stood between him and the outside world out front -- Blaine settled for hanging around backstage until show time, listening to the roar of the crowd steadily build outside as he paced backstage.

His last means of communication lay dead in his pocket; the only phone chargers were still in the bus, making it impossible for him to see if Kurt had texted -- or, indeed, to text Kurt back.

Listening to his openers perform, Blaine tried to relax his thoughts, picking through half a bag of pretzels and three more waters before the roar of the crowd became almost irresistible. Willing himself to stay out of sight until it was time, Blaine swung a guitar over his shoulder, adjusted the mic around his head one last time, and bounded onto stage, letting the noise wash over him.

He spotted Kurt almost immediately, standing just off to the left and nearly at the stage, wearing a wide smile that made Blaine's heart skip a beat before he burst into the song and left the rest behind. He blasted through a mashup of three songs in quick succession, handing over the music to Jake for a guitar solo before reclaiming it half a song long, finishing with a segment of I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You to another wave of applause.

"How are we all doing tonight?" he asked, reaching up to flatten his curls briefly before bending down to snag another gulp of water from his mini water bottle. "I have to say, I have the best band in the world. They were the ones who hauled me from the bus just to be with you all."

"He probably wouldn't even be conscious right now if it wasn't for us," Jake added pointedly.

"Jake Puckerman, everyone," Blaine added, eliciting another round of cheers and a smattering of laughter. "He's our lead guitarist tonight, and that's my buddy Sam Evans backing him up. And hey, give it up for Ryder Lynn on drums!"

Letting the applause die down a little, Blaine continued, "I'm also incredibly fortunate to have an amazing sound crew. They're up top -- wave, guys!

"And last but not least, my amazing merch manager -- Kitty Wilde.

"Now that we've all been introduced," he added, strumming his guitar slowly, picking up a rhythm, "let's get this show rolling, shall we?"

As the crowd screamed its approval, Blaine leaped into Animal, crooning into the mic to a handful of wolf-whistles that made him have to turn his head to laugh, Ryder wolf-whistling behind him to even more laughter from the crowd.

Singing his heart out, he gave himself over to the song, forgetting about Kurt and the audience and everything, really, except the music. He didn't even pause to banter as Animal wrapped up, switching the mood around with the guitar along as he sank his teeth into Cough Syrup a second time.

He was in the middle of a transition to his next number when it happened -- Kurt's light swaying caught his eye. "You okay?" was on his lips before he realized that he was on stage, and he couldn't break character now to ask about Kurt's health even though he wanted to -- and so he kept singing and made it through exactly half of Say before Kurt's swaying turned abruptly one-sided, a startled pair of fans supporting him with hands under each arm.

"Whoa, hey, everything okay?" he called, letting the rest of the band carry the instrumental for a time as his own strumming came to an abrupt halt. "Here, I've got a water, I don't want anyone passing out here," he said, his own jocularity abruptly strangled when Kurt's eyes rolled back. "Oh. Damn. Hang on a sec, guys," Blaine said, nervously waving a hand at his band as the crowd tittered and fluttered, riled by his own nerves.

Shit. Get it together, Anderson.

"I've got it," Kitty announced, plowing through the crowd as though it wasn't there and steering the girls supporting him away from the main area -- and entirely out of sight.

Feeling sick with nerves -- God, he'd brought Kurt out here, and now something was wrong -- Blaine struggled to keep his feet planted on the stage, feeling vaguely unwell himself. Drawing in a deep breath and using another sip of water to distract himself, he said, "Stay hydrated, everyone," and slowly picked up another song, aiming for light and easy with Dark Side.

He swept through two original songs and a band-heavy rendition of Old Time Rock and Roll. By the time he reached the finale, he sang Teenage Dream without once glancing at the crowd for Kurt, willing himself to trust Kitty to take care of things.

Taking his final bow was both exhilarating and bittersweet. He wanted to be completely happy, to look out at the crowd and beam because they'd come to see him and this, but he couldn't shake his worry for Kurt altogether, only mustering a warm smile and a genuine, "Thank you so, so much; you all were amazing" before disappearing backstage.

To his surprise and relief, Kitty and Kurt were there. Kurt was sitting in one of the chairs nursing a bottle of water and nibbling on a bowl of pretzels while Kitty instructed Jake on how to handle merch over the phone. While Blaine knew he would be asking about that one later -- Jake was amazing on the guitar but had no idea how to work the merch desk, as could be evidenced by his somewhat panicky responses on the phone -- Blaine didn't care, crossing the room in four strides and sweeping Kurt up into a hug.

"Oh thank God you're okay I was so worried, don't you ever do that to me again." Backing off a little -- worried he might need room to breathe and not pass out -- Blaine added anxiously, "Are you okay? What happened? Do we need to go to the hospital?" He directed the last at Kitty, almost unconsciously feeling Kurt's forehead while Kurt blushed and Kitty rolled her eyes, dragging him away with an arm around his waist and her phone glued to her ear.

"Relax, Anderson; he's fine," Kitty assured him. "Think you can handle him before Jake actually has an aneurysm on the other end?"

"Sure, sure -- go," Blaine said, clapping a hand on her back and yelping when she whacked him on the head in response, disappearing through the door before he could respond. Turning on his heel, he fluttered his hands worriedly when Kurt started to stand, pushing him down gently with a hasty, "No, no, no, no, I'm not having you pass out on me. Don't get up."

"Are you holding me hostage?" Kurt teased lightly, his face still a shade too pale for Blaine's liking but his humor mercifully intact.

Folding his arms across his chest, Blaine sighed and said, "No. But I don't want you to pass out again. What happened?"

Shaking his head, a blush stealing across his entire face, Kurt replied, "I ... might have been dehydrated."

"Might?" Blaine's left eyebrow ticked up a notch. "Might have been or was?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You've been to concerts before. You've done concerts before. It happens."

Letting out a deep breath, Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, heart still beating hard from both the end-of-the-concert high and seeing Kurt again before saying, "Don't move. I'll be right back."

Kurt made a show of folding his legs and taking another sip of water, smiling a little as he watched Blaine disappear through the doors.

Beating a hasty retreat to the restroom, Blaine got waylaid at the doors as he exited by a pair of fans who had stuck around to see if he would sign merch, smiling at them and signing their bags happily. Unfortunately, the moment that he was in the public eye again his opportunities for a quick escape were reduced from slim to none. A half hour passed almost before he noticed it, bobbing on his feet a little as he shook hands and hugged fans and signed as many things as he could. Damn the posters, he thought, hand beginning to cramp before the last group had trickled away, leaving him alone at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, clapping him on the shoulder in passing.

"Kurt," Blaine blurted out. "I have to find Kurt."

He knew exactly where Kurt was, but it was still a relief to see him lounging in the chair, texting and finally looking like he wasn't about to pass out again. "Hey," Blaine said, letting the door clap shut behind him. "Thanks for waiting. I'm so sorry, I--"

"You're popular," Kurt said, lips twitching in a smile as he looked up and set his phone aside. Standing up slowly -- Blaine couldn't help but extend his arms a little, ready to catch him -- Kurt pulled him into a careful hug, resting his cheek against Blaine's. "I'm okay."

Curling his fingers in the back of Kurt's shirt -- feeling his heart rate settle and the stress bleed out of him -- Blaine echoed softly, "You're okay."

"I'm sorry for interrupting your first show."

"You didn't interrupt it," Blaine said inanely.

Kurt huffed a laugh, letting him go after a long moment. "You're adorable. And I really need to be catching a cab if I'm going to find a hotel in the area before midnight."

"Stay with us," Blaine blurted out, not thinking but so sure that he didn't even consider retracting the offer once it was out there. Kurt raised both eyebrows in surprise. "I know that's -- a lot, but it's just me and the band and the sound crew, and they're all -- amazing, really, we won't -- you'll have your own bed space and everything. I mean, it's not as good as a hotel, not really, but--"

"I'd love to," Kurt interrupted gently, squeezing his hand. "Are you sure?"

Without missing a beat, Blaine replied, "Absolutely positive."

He smiled and felt warm to his toes when Kurt echoed it, indulging himself in this -- the pride of a performance well-done and his first night of the tour successfully completed, albeit imperfectly -- before a voice called out, "Anderson! You better be ready to haul your weight in gear because I am not carrying all this stuff back to the van."

"Coming, Kitty!" Blaine called, already moving for the door reflexively. Kurt moved to follow and Blaine let him, holding the door open once it was clear that the venue had emptied out aside from general staff. "Don't lift anything," he warned, yelping when Ryder poked him again in the side with the stick.

"Come on, loverboy. Just because you're pretty doesn't mean you get out of it."

Already arguing, Blaine chased after him, aware of Sam folding Kurt into the mix by having him stack the merch back up in boxes.

All in all, he had to admit, it was a good start to the tour. A little shaky in the middle -- and he wasn't about to let Kurt out of his sight again until he was sure that he really was okay -- but good, overall.

And Kurt was coming with them. For one night, at least, he could hold onto all of this.

As far as Blaine was concerned, it was one of the best ways to end a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Please let me know if there are any weird coding errors in the fic! I did my best to weed them out before publication, but some will inevitably slip through the cracks.


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